


How Steve Rogers saying all the wrong things got him a date

by Theshygirloverthere



Series: Steve Rogers is an Idiot [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theshygirloverthere/pseuds/Theshygirloverthere
Summary: So Bucky Barnes was a human disaster. Sue him.He’d like to say that there is at least one part of his life that wasn’t a total mess. Except he was jobless, living in a trashed apartment that his pension barely covered, with exactly one box of instant rice and a jar of pasta sauce. Not to mention he had no friends, no family within a thousand miles, and no left arm. He never cleaned his apartment because he had no motivation, and he showered exactly once a week because it was a hassle with only one arm and he barely went out anyway. He was a disaster in every sense.Steve Rogers is a ray of sunshine who smells like flowers and is Bucky's new live-in maid.What could possibly happen next...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Steve Rogers is an Idiot [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405552
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	How Steve Rogers saying all the wrong things got him a date

So Bucky Barnes was a human disaster. Sue him.

He’d like to say that there is at least one part of his life that wasn’t a total mess. Except he was jobless, living in a trashed apartment that his pension barely covered, with exactly one box of instant rice and a jar of pasta sauce. Not to mention he had no friends, no family within a thousand miles, and no left arm. He never cleaned his apartment because he had no motivation, and he showered exactly once a week because it was a hassle with only one arm and he barely went out anyway. He was a disaster in every sense.

Then Bucky Barnes met the love of his life. Not like soulmate type love, but definitely love. Sam Wilson barged into Bucky’s life after thinking he was dead. Basically Bucky hadn’t left his apartment in three weeks and Sam thought he was dead. Bucky hated him. Sam Wilson was pushy and sassy and just straight up annoying. An asshole all around.

After that day he kept showing up. Every. Single. Day. For two months. He forced Bucky on shopping trips, walks around the park, and even convinced him to shower almost everyday. Thanks to Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes was no longer a complete disaster.

The moment he realized that he loved Sam Wilson was when he came home from his first ever job interview to a spotless apartment. His day had kind of sucked and the interview really took a lot out of him. It had taken all of his willpower not to burst into tears on the walk home. He was already wallowing and had no interest in going back to his messy lonely apartment. Except it wasn’t messy, and it wasn’t empty. Sam Wilson was dusting off his shelf of collectable Star Wars merch. There were no clothes on the floor, no dishes in the sink, no trash bags by the door. His apartment was clean.

“I love you,” Bucky blurted before collapsing on the couch.

Sam came to stand over him, “Listen man that’s great but I’m not into dudes.”

Bucky was laughing. For the first time in who knows how long he was genuinely laughing, because Sam thought he loved him loved him. “Oh Sam,” Bucky stood placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “you’re absolutely one-hundred percent not my type at all.”

Sam let out a huge breath of relief. “You said you loved me.”

Bucky laid back down on his couch. It smelled nice, like lavender or something, “Yep Sam, anyone who cleans my whole apartment and finds me job interviews deserves some love,” he paused, “you know, friend love.”

“Right,” Sam plopped himself down in the armchair the two had drug back to Bucky’s apartment after finding it in someones front yard. “You got anybody else in mind who might y’know deserve some Bucky love?”

He went rigid, “No, Sam you are not setting me up with anyone.”

“And why the hell not?”

Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “Because I’m a smelly long haired almost hobo missing a limb.”

Sam held up a finger, “First of all, you don’t smell that bad anymore, you can get a haircut, you’re not really a hobo at all, and the arm thing will help you weed out the assholes.”

“Weed out the assholes,” Bucky deadpanned.

“Yep, only assholes would make unprompted conversation about the arm.”

“Okay, Sam” Bucky stood, dragging Sam out of his chair and towards the door, “Why don't you call me when you get off whatever it is that you’re high on, and we can make a list of all the reasons I’m not dating material.” Then he shut in the door before Sam could reply.

A date. Bucky didn’t need a date. He needed to get his shit together, and he couldn’t do that if he had to constantly stress about what he was going to wear to meet random strange

**********

A week later his apartment was a mess again. He’d somehow managed to use every single dish in his cabinets and had moved on to reusing dirty dishes. He was almost out of clean sweatpants and his laundry basket was overflowing. The coffee table in front of the couch was loaded with assorted trash, including used napkins, takeout containers, and gum wrappers. The kitchen floor was coated in crumbs from his attempts to make sandwiches without making a mess. He overall felt horrible again. Bucky wished he could say he at least tried to keep his apartment clean, but he didn’t.

Sam had left a week ago bringing up all kinds of things Bucky didn’t want to think about which did nothing to motivate him to clean anything. He was officially a mess again. Sam had still showed up everyday but he never made it inside the apartment. Bucky had always blocked him, assuring Sam that he was fine.

It took a week for Sam to realize something really was wrong. Today instead of just letting Bucky blow him off, he pushed right past him without a word. “Shit, already.”

Bucky let his head hang, “Sorry.” His voice was quiet and soft, afraid to disappoint.

Sam sighed, “I got a solution to this, but you’re not gonna like it.” He leaned against the kitchen counter. “The mess stresses you out, yes?’ Bucky nodded. “Then you need a maid or something, because as much as I’d love to keep cleaning for you, I don’t have time with everything going on at the VA.”

He considered it for a moment, “You know I don’t have the money to pay someone, Sam.”

“Yeah, but I know a guy looking for a place to stay.”

Bucky froze, Sam wanted him to get a roommate? “So not only do you want to let a stranger dig through all of my things but now you want me to share my living space with this person?”

He smirked “Yup.”

“Bad idea Sam.” Bucky’s breathing began to speed up. He really didn’t not want to break down in front of Sam again.

“You’re overreacting.” Sam stated.

Bucky voice rose without permission, “Dammit Sam I always overreact, you should know this.”

“Just meet him okay.” Sam was so calm. “That’s all I’m asking, meet him and if you think you can’t live with him, then it’s over, I won’t bother you with it again.”

“Fine.”

Shit he did not mean to say that. He did not want a maid or a roommate. He wanted to be left alone. Talking to Sam was really the only social thing he’d done since he got back. He couldn’t just start living with someone else. He took a deep breath, all he had to do was meet this live-in maid and tell Sam it wasn’t meant to be. Easy-peasy.

**********

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Bucky had prepared to meet Sam’s friend by not showering, wearing the dirtiest thing he could find on his floor, and not brushing his hair. It was the best he could come up to deter this maid from ever wanting to be near him again. And he absolutely regretted it.

Sam’s friend smelled like flowers. Like the most wonderful smelling flower ever who also smelled better than that. He had on a nice button-up shirt, and had combed his hair to perfection. Shit. He was beautiful. When he told Sam he wasn’t his type, he really meant it, because this man was exactly his type. And Bucky did his best to look horrible. Like really terribly horribly awful.

“Steve, this is Bucky. Bucky this is Steve”, Sam glared at him. Shit, he knows the smell and the clothes and the greasy hair were all done on purpose. Sam was mentally throwing daggers at him, but Steve, Steve was holding out his hand and smiling this bright smile. He looked like the sun and the moon and everything else beautiful. Bucky sure as hell wasn’t a poet, but this man was doing something to him.

Steve’s hand returned to his side, because Bucky decided to stare at his hand rather than reach out and take it. He was writing mental poems praising God for this man. This man who now thinks he’s a crazy, long-haired, smelly almost-hobo.

Except Steve was looking at him and he didn’t look disgusted or repulsed in any way. He had that same stupid sunshine smile on his face. And fuck he was so cute. Bucky was fucked officially fucked.

It took him too long to realize he was staring and missing every single thing that was being said. “Bucky.” Sam looked even more pissed.

“Yes, yeah, what were you saying” Steve snickered at him. Even that was cute.

“Okay, so Steve here has nowhere to live and is really good at cleaning things. And you, have somewhere to live and no ability to clean. Steve is a great guy and you are an okay guy. So Bucky, what do you say?”

Steve was looking at me. His eyes were so blue they looked fake. Is this what its like to fall in love. God, Bucky was fucked. So he did the only logical thing he could think to do. He said no.

“Yes.” Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to me writing whenever I feel like it becuase I am unable to actually stick to a schedule. Hopefully I can get the next chapter of this up in a week, it might be up tonight, but honestly it all depends on how I'm feeling. Hopefully you guys like my shitty writing and please give me prompts to write becuase I have no creativity.


End file.
